


I'm a burning effigy (of everything I used to be)

by Mia_Zeklos



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anger Management, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cara Dune-centric, F/M, Force-Sensitive Cara Dune, Identity Issues, Many a Questionable Decision, Morally Ambiguous Character, Post-Season/Series 02, Slow Burn, The Author Isn't Sure Where She's Going With This But Will Enjoy The Ride, The Dark Side of the Force (Star Wars), The Thing Din Does For Love, although to be fair that could be a tag on any Mando fic I write I suppose, because I couldn't stop myself unfortunately, more like an outright identity crisis but that is unfortunately not a tag, more than one even! but that's as much as the tag allows, or lackthereof more specifically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28181121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: "The Force is supposed to be this all-encompassing thing, isn't it? Maybe you're just more attuned to it than most people.""Force-sensitive," she clarifies. Din had never heard a scientific term sound like a eulogy before. "It's called being Force-sensitive. It's what Skywalker thinks I am."(In the wake of their narrow escape from Moff Gideon's cruiser, Cara makes a startling discovery about herself. As hard as she tries to push it back into obscurity, the realisation that it brings changes everything.)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cara Dune
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: I decided to embark on this adventure because I'm a big fan of angst, hurt/comfort, identity crisis, moral corruption, and people being brought to the edge of sanity by the power of love (TM). So that's about what you can expect. Yes, it was prompted by Cara's Alderaan-related scene in the season finale. Yes, it was also inspired by the post on tumblr talking about the potential of dark side!Cara. Not sure how good it's going to be, in any of the senses of the word, moral or quality-wise, but I do at least hope it's fun, because it sure is a fun concept to explore. As always, feedback is welcome!
> 
> Title taken from [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzeK0V0amPQ)

The face staring back at Cara as they climb back aboard _Slave I_ , minus the kid, just as they had arrived, breaks her heart far more than she had ever anticipated it would.

Din Djarin, unmasked, looks both nothing and exactly like what she would have expected, mainly because she had never bothered to imagine. For as long as she had known the man, the helmet had been part of him, and she had never had any trouble reading him regardless of the supposed barrier between them. This, now, feels like an intrusion, but he seems to insist on getting a reaction out of her eventually, so she turns her head to look him in the eye the way she would have with anyone else.

 _Intrusive_. It's still the first thing she feels, and it's ridiculous because none of this is about her, but she can't help it. The realisation of how selfish it must seem from the outside is the only thing that keeps her looking - this is what he needs, and past her reservations, the second impression slips in quietly, almost unnoticeably, the way he had slipped past her defences quite a while ago now.

 _Warmth_.

More than anything, looking at him feels like warmth; the kind she hasn't experienced in years. It's the unbearable, slightly overbearing type that she'd always both sought out and done her best to avoid - like the campfires in the mountains her father had set up during their hikes in her childhood, or the fireplace in their living room during the coldest winters. She had always missed them when they'd been gone, but staying too close had never been an option for long either.

It's not warmth that he reminds her of, she realises belatedly, or at least, not entirely. It's _home_.

"You'll see him again," she says, something fiercely protective bursting up inside her at the idea that he had been doubting it until now. The way his face lights up with hope, ridiculously easy to read after years of being hidden away, breaks her heart a little bit too. "You promised him, didn't you? You've always kept your word about those things."

"I have." His voice is raspy and unsure without the guise of the voice modulator and Cara has rarely wanted to hear anything less. "We need to get a ship first, though. Fett and Fennec apparently have other business to attend to and I want to avoid this stupid saber thing for as long as possible. Or, you know, corner Bo-Katan somewhere where there aren't any witnesses so she can tell everyone we fought for it and there's no onlookers that could eventually disprove her. Whichever happens first."

For a bounty hunter, he's as non-confrontational as he could possibly get, and Cara allows herself a smile. "I can't help you with the saber, but we can work something out when it comes to the ship." She nods towards the back, where their one consistent adversary is - hopefully - still out cold. "We've got double the reward to look forward to, remember?"

When _he_ smiles in return, it's like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, blinding and hopeful and all too encouraging, and if she's not careful, Cara might end up loving it as much as she already loves him. If it's the vague idea of a new ship that gets such a response, she thinks, she might have to fight Luke Skywalker with her bare hands to get him to allow them a visit to the kid's new home, leftover hero worship be damned. For this - for the two of them, really - she would do _anything_.

~.~

The planet where Luke Skywalker - Jedi Master by now and a war hero from the Rebellion, according to Cara, and the only one left in the Galaxy, according to the general populace - has set up his school is more peaceful than anything Din would have expected.

It's not really like he knows much about the Jedi in the first place, he reminds himself, so any expectations he could have had would have been unfounded, but it's still so-- _quiet_. It's almost eerie, for a place supposedly full of children.

"You think we can just go in?" he asks eventually. Everything here feels like a shot in the dark, even more so with how ridiculously fragile and hesitant he feels just now. Cara, Maker bless her, sees right through it as always, and her expressions morphs into the endearing combination between fond and patronising that he's as disgruntled as he's grateful for.

"We can try." Neither of them had stepped forward, but the twitching, shimmering quality of the air in front of them suggests a force field of some kind. Having been on the wrong side of one a few times too many in the recent past, Din isn't particularly eager to try his hand at it again. "Why don't you go back for that toy you got the kid? I'll try to get Skywalker to talk to us first."

"Sounds like a plan." From what they'd heard about the school so far, it's all an awfully private ordeal, with the parents rarely - or never - interfering with anything that happens. It's an unnerving thought, but the trust that all of the parents in question had put into the man is at least somewhat comforting, so Din turns his back to the fields separating the forest from the Temple and the huts piled in front of it. "I'll meet you here in a minute."

It's how he finds Cara, about ten minutes later, still at the edge of the forest, now in the company of what must be one of the students, wrapped up in what seems to be a rapidly heating argument.

"Master Skywalker says no one is allowed past this line." The kid can't be older than ten at most, but it doesn't stop him from speaking with the authority of the Jedi Master himself. "If you can't get in yourself, then you can't enter."

"Listen, kid, we both know that's b—" Cara closes her eyes, draws a deep breath, and tries again, voice honey-sweet this time. "Why don't you get Master Skywalker out here, then? He can see what this is all about for himself. How's that sound?"

The boy shifts in his place guiltily, but stands his ground. "No visits are allowed. Master Skywalker says so."

"And where _is_ Master Skywalker?" Even from a distance, Din can almost hear her grit her teeth. "Not here, right? Does he know _you're_ out here on your own? I doubt it. So why don't you go back to the temple and tell him that there are people who want to speak to him? Whatever lie you make up, I'll back it up as long as you _let me in_. See this?" She jabs a finger at the badge plastered to her uniform and the boy's dark eyes widen in terror. "Wherever your parents are, I _will_ find them. Don't want to disappoint them all the way from Yavin 4, do you?"

"All right!" The kid steps back, hands raised in surrender, but his obvious panic at the face of parental consequence quickly morphs into the same shit-eating grin that children his age seem to adopt just before making one final effort to get on the nerves of whoever it is that they're trying to put on edge. "You can wait here, or follow me. If you can."

Din's just about to shout after her - warn her how much it hurts, and especially how much worse it would likely be on her, unprotected by Beskar as she is - but it's too late; she'd clearly had enough. Without a moment of hesitation, Cara steps forward and the veil between the Temple and the rest of the planet lifts at her unspoken command, falling shut as soon as Din tries to follow.

Worse yet, she doesn't seem to have noticed at all.

“You coming?” She calls back, puzzled when he remains on the other side of the nearly invisible wall between them. “Little man over there says he can take us to Skywalker.”

“I can’t.” It sounds as puzzled as he feels. Cara has no knowledge that he himself doesn’t, as far as he’s aware, and she had never shown even an ounce of recognition for the sort of tricks Grogu had been able to do – she would have defended herself from him when he’d attacked her in his misunderstanding all the way back on the Razor Crest if she had, wouldn’t she? – so it doesn’t make any sense, but here they are anyway; separated by something neither of them has really had the chance – or the time – to try and comprehend. “There’s a force field.”

“I don’t think it’s there anymore.” She sprints back to his side and reaches out and Din watches, mesmerised, as her hand pierces right through the blockade between them. “See?” She jumps away just as quickly when her attempt to pull him through ends in the air between them crackling like electricity, and her eyes grow fearful in a way he’s never seen before – of the unknown, rather than a threat they’d willingly faced.

“I _don’t_ see.” He’s tense and on edge and it _shows_ , but Cara doesn’t seem to mind – she understands, like she always does. “I think that’s the issue.”

There’s not much she can say to that, he supposes; not in the way of comfort, in any case. “I’ll get Skywalker, all right?” Even her smile feels anxious. “He’ll figure this out. The kid will be with you again in no time.”

~.~

By the time Cara makes her way to the hut where the blasted kid that had welcomed her at the boundary had disappeared, she had managed to cool off somewhat, even if the knowledge that she had been allowed in while Din had been made irritation spring up anew. Who is he, anyway? They'd made enough of their research to be aware that the temple was ruled entirely by Skywalker; if she hadn't known better, she would have assumed that the little bugger had built the damn thing.

When she enters finally enters, he's still there, complaining - loudly - and Skywalker is a welcome sign, one arm patting his student's shoulder in a clumsy attempt at comfort while his gaze rise up to hers.

"—and I said no, but they insisted, and—"

"It's all right, Ben," the Jedi says, a small smile - confused, but welcoming - slips past. "You let her in eventually, I see."

"No! She just got through! The other one is still out there."

Skywalker narrows his eyes at her and pushes the boy up from the log he'd been sitting on, intrigue and suspicion mixing into one. "Why don't you go let him in, then? I'll handle it from here."

For now, that seems to be enough to placate him, though his suspicious eyes still stray to the blaster - among other weapons - strapped to her. "Uncle Luke—"

_Ah. That explains it, then._

"It's all right, Ben," the man stresses again, still unbelievably calm. "You have nothing to worry about."

Another reassuring nod and he's out of the hut, while Skywalker faces her, all business now, studying her face as if trying to sift through vague memories. "Hello." It's careful, but not as scared as the kid - his nephew, apparently - had been. "Have we met before?"

"Barely." If she has to jog his memory a bit, so be it. "You took a new student recently. Small? Green? Accompanied by a very protective Mandalorian? Can't forget that, I suppose."

"No, I remember him. He's here now, but I guess you figured that out yourself." He's still got that look in his eyes; as if he's dying to ask something but can't quite bring himself to in fear of her reaction. It's an odd sight; he doesn't strike her as someone who would be afraid of uncomfortable questions. "He agreed to let me train him." He eyes her badge and for a moment, Cara feels the distinct discomfort that her new position seems to bring everywhere - the automatic assumption that someone is in trouble if she's there. "Has he changed his mind? I assume he's _the other one_ that Ben was talking about, but if you can get through a force shield, why not let him in too?"

"I _can't_ get through a force shield." The implication alone is absurd; as if she'd ever had anything to do with the sort of skills Skywalker seems to specialise in. "Your student must have done it without noticing. It happened sometimes with Mando's kid."

"They do notice when they use the Force, generally. It's funny that you'd say that."

She scowls back at him, frown deepening further when it only makes him look more curious, as if she's a lab specimen laid out on a table. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing yet." He peeks out through the entrance behind her back and, when Cara follows his example, it's clear that they're still alone. Whatever the kid - _Ben_ \- and Din are doing, it's clearly taking a while. "What did you say your name was?"

His eyes settle on her face - her tattoo, more specifically - and for a terrible moment, she feels horribly _seen_. There's a tension in the back of her mind, subtle but insistent, and she pushes it away as best as she can, watching his eyes widen in what appears to be a response. "Cara Dune," she offers eventually, past the lump in her throat. "Marshall of the New Republic."

"Hello, Cara." He's ever so collected, but there's an undercurrent of anticipation now that she's not quite sure she likes. Still, there's not much she can do - when he points her to the recently deserted seat of his student, she complies wordlessly. In what now feels like a different world, they'd fought a war on the same side; she can trust him for a minute or two. "Why don't you take a seat?"

~.~

On their way out of the Jedi Temple and towards his brand new ship, Din feels like singing.

It's strange; what a short, barely comprehensible on one side meeting can do to a man's mood. He had talked as much as he'd been able to, hoping that the kid could at least understand some of it - how much he had missed him, how proud he is of him for doing what he can to gain more control over his powers, how he'd love to see him again as soon as Master Skywalker thinks it's wise to do so - and they'd both ended up happier for it, or so it feels. Cara's spirits had lifted when she'd seen Grogu too, though overall, she seems much more subdued than he'd ever seen her before and it's only when they're back on board that he realises that she'd spent the majority of their visit separate from them.

"Oh, it's nothing," she waves him off. It looks like anything but nothing, but he won't be the one to mention it; sooner or later, if he knows her at all, she'll come around on her own. "Just something Skywalker said."

"About the kid?" He'd spoken to the Jedi too, but apparently, there had been nothing out of the ordinary so far - Grogu had started developing as expected for someone this early in their training.

"No."Even that single syllable sounds foreboding. "About me. You know how that kid that welcomed us at the boundary only decided to let in one of us? Well, he didn't. I let _myself_ in, or so he says."

"Oh." He's not quite following, but he _has_ to say something - even from all the way across the cockpit, Cara is bleeding anxiety into their shared air. "Is that an issue?"

"No one without their stupid powers is supposed to go through, Din." She sounds so powerless that it's turning into frustration, and there's not much he can do apart from stare on in astonishment. When she's scared or upset or confused, Cara gets angry - that much he knows already - but he had never seen her _lost_ before.

"So what? Maybe that's how the Force works. The kid went through, too."

"Yeah, except the little shit is _eight_ and he's been displaying signs of being able to do that since he was born. Grown adults don't suddenly realise they can do magic."

"It does happen _sometimes_." From what little he knows, that might be Skywalker's story, too; the reports are conflicting and neither of them had dared to ask. "The Force is supposed to be this all-encompassing thing, isn't it? Maybe you're just more attuned to it than most people."

"Force-sensitive," she clarifies. Din had never heard a scientific term sound like a eulogy before. "It's called being Force-sensitive. It's what Skywalker thinks I am."

"Is that— a problem?" There's only so much comfort he can offer, considering that his knowledge on the matter seems to be even more limited than what she'd just been given. "Nothing has to change, Cara. You don't have to do anything about it if you don't want to."

"You're right." She doesn't sound convinced, if the way her head is still buried in her cupped palms is anything to go by, but for now, he can let it slide. This all feels so very brittle that all he offers in return is companionable silence. "You're right, of course."

Under the current circumstances, there's little to do but try and get her home. "Are we going back to Nevarro?"

"No!" There's panic creeping into her tone now, as if he'd suggested getting back to Yavin 4 and locking her in the Temple for further examination. "No, not yet. Can we— do you mind if—" She looks up and _oh_ , even if he had thought to insist, it would have failed spectacularly right about now. There's no regret in removing his helmet in front of the people closest to him - as small as that circle happens to be - but right now, he rather wishes she hadn't been able to learn the power of meeting his eyes head on. He could never refuse her anything that way, no matter how outlandish. "We could just fly for a while longer first? I can't go back yet."

"All right." It's an easy enough request, and ever so typical for her - anything that isn't immediately explainable is something to run from. With the way his own world had been turned upside down recently, he's painfully familiar with it. "For as long as you like."

There's nothing around them but the desolation of deep space and the cold light of distant stars and for now, that seems to be the best thing he can offer her.

Nothing has to change. Din repeats it to himself again and again, frantically pushing away the thought of Grogu being taken away with Luke Skywalker's quiet resolution and the reassurance that it's for the best that he learns to rein in his power before it grows out of his control. He repeats it to himself as the silence between them stretches on and grows pensive, as if the last thing she wants is to reflect on the new information but feels she has no choice but to try. _Nothing has to change._

Try as he might to distract her - for once, she feels as aimless as he does and the change must _hurt_ , smasll as it supposedly is - neither of them speaks again for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Cara is still wary, but baby steps are being taken.  
> Hope this is enjoyable and feedback is, as always, most welcome!

They don't talk about it.

There are plenty of things Cara is ready to admit she's not as good as she'd like to be at, but avoiding enormous, glaring issues is not one of them. _That_ she had polished to perfection years ago, staring over the shoulder of the only artist in her deployment unit as he'd stabbed her greatest loss in ink on her face, immortalising what she would never again be able to mention without breaking down - or so it had felt.

It had helped, too. Most people don't ask and the ones who dare to gloat, like that Imperial cockroach had, don't live to say anything after that. Back when she'd been a teenager, a friend of hers had got a large, complicated-looking letter from an ancient language that had been found engraved on a rock in a by then abandoned planet in the Outer Rim. She had been impressed, though neither of them had known what it had meant, and the friend in question had shrugged, as carefree as Cara herself had been that day.

"I might not know what it means," she'd said, "but hey, it's a good conversation starter _and_ it looks good, doesn't it?

It had, and Cara had almost been inspired to get one of her own, but she'd waited, wanting to be as presentable as possible on the interviews she'd had scheduled for all of the best Alderaanian universities. She'd been hell bent on being a healer, back then, and their ideas for cleanliness had been rather outdated, so she'd refrained.

In the end, of course, she'd become a soldier, not a healer, and the tattoo she'd ended up with is more of a conversation ender than anything else, so it's not like she expects her life to go according to any sort of plan. For years, really, it had been nothing but curveballs, one after another with very little time to breathe in-between. She should have guessed that a new one would come as soon as the semblance of stability had tried to sneak into her life.

Still, she doesn't talk about it and by extension, neither does Din. He's good at avoiding painful topics, too, and they'd got used to tiptoeing around each other's sensitive subjects quite a while ago. If she doesn't want to mention the bantha in the room, he's going to respect that; Cara is sure of that much.

So it's not really a surprise that when it finally happens, it's her decision - or at least, it _appears_ to be. It's mid-sparring and it's entirely uncontrolled, just as she'd feared, and it would have almost been funny if it hadn't been quite so _unknown_.

The Force - if that's what this is, as Luke Skywalker had said, and not some weird fluke of nature that will fade away as soon as she stops paying attention to it - seems to be conscious in a way she had never expected it to be. It's like another limb that she'd never been aware she'd had, slipping past her well-practiced manoeuvres to lash out at whomever it is that it deems her enemy. It fills her with a new kind of understanding for the kid and what he'd done when he'd tried to choke her out for the arm wrestling stunt that she and Mando had amused themselves with on the long flight back to Nevarro - his initial response had been to defend him, and therefore to attack. Now, she wonders if it had been _his_ response at all: for her, the Force feels like it's wrapped around her, waiting to strike when she either can't or doesn't want to.

Case in point: they're just _sparring_. Din evades a blow by ducking out of her way and she jumps back at the move she knows will follow - one of the downsides of travelling together for so long is that eventually, they'd learnt all of each other's sequences in a fight, predicting the next strike before the other had even realised that they'd pick it the same way they always do. It's easy; grounding. It's what serves as the best possible distraction for them both when not much else works, and Cara loves it for that. She dances out of reach yet again at Din's next attempt, laughing at the way he falls back on uncertain feet. They're on a world dominated by rainforests and the ground is slippery and unpredictable, but it's quiet here - quiet and calm and undisturbed and, best of all, there's no organism more developed than a mosquito in a ten thousand mile radius. It's exactly what she needs.

On the next go - when she charges at him and Din prepares himself for a trick of some kind, not expecting her to slam fists-first into him - he slips.

Realistically, it all happens in an instant, Cara knows, but to her, it feels like a small infinity. Din slips and loses his footing, hands bracing on her shoulders out of reflex. It's _fine_ \- she can keep them both up and he knows it as well as she does, but the momentary rush of adrenaline that always seems to strike when her body realises that it's in immediate danger of collapsing in a rather painful way fires up and before she can blink, his touch is gone, replaced by a startled yelp as Din finds himself nearly fifty feet away, on his back in the precise position he'd likely been hoping to avoid.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Cara stares on, horrified, an apology already forming on her lips by the time he meets her eyes again. He doesn't seem to be hurt, just perplexed, and Maker, she can't blame him.

"Was that—" He finally manages and she shakes her head; a denial that they both know would be a lie. She gives up the ghost before he'd had time to elaborate.

"I think so."

" _Why_?" She must look about as lost as she feels, because Din continues. "What provoked it?"

"How am _I_ supposed to know?" It sounds defensive even to her own ears and Cara does her best to appear more collected than that; to give the impression of someone entirely in sync with every process in her body and a solid grip on everything she forces out into the world.

Except that she's not, and with him, there's no need to pretend. There never _had been_ a need, even before she'd turned out to be--whatever it is that this is supposed to be.

"Maybe we should go back to the school," Din offers tentatively, sighing in the immediate protest that follows; the terror in her eyes. "It's not a death sentence, Cara. The kid is there, isn't he? Last we heard from him, he was doing well."

"Yes, but he's a _child_. They're all children. I'm—" She shakes her head again, though what it is that she's protesting this time, she's not entirely sure. "I can't. I won't blame you if you want to go back to Nevarro now. You can drop me off there and I can just pretend none of this ever happened." She strides over to sit by his side on the jungle floor, face hidden in her arms so he wouldn't get the chance to look at her. She can see why he'd rather have the helmet on when talking to people, now. It feels exceptionally disarming all of a sudden. "I have a life there. Another chance. I don't have to give it up for some arcane bullshit that I didn't fully believe existed half a year ago."

"The same arcane bullshit that sends lightning into people?"

"It wasn't _lightning_."

"It _felt_ like it." She can't try and dispute that one, because it had felt a little like it to her, too - like a storm racing over her palms, eager to be deployed again. He's not hurt, but the implication is clear - someone else could be. Eventually, someone else _will_ be, if she doesn't get this under control. Worse yet, it might be him and while it's not what he means, for that, she'd never forgive herself. "All right, we don't have to go back to the school if you don't want to. I might have another idea. There's another Jedi - well, not really a Jedi, but-- I don't know. She's got the Force too and she knows how to use it - I tried to leave the kid with her at first, but she refused." There's something he's not mentioning there, but Cara is too busy trying to cling to this one straw of hope to call him out on it just now. "There are no kids there. It'll just be us." When she doesn't respond, he squeezes her arm reassuringly and she can feel her heart flutter painfully in response. There's so much care in this one gesture that she doesn't know what to do with and he's offering it all to her with no regard to the uncertainty he'll be treated to. "How does that sound?"

Well. He might have _some_ idea about the whirlwind in her mind, after all. The question sounds nearly like begging.

"Sounds good."

It sounds like the only option she's got, too, but Cara doesn't say it - they both know.

~.~

The world they visit to find Ahsoka Tano, as the not-quite-Jedi Master is apparently called, is not particularly different from the one they’d left behind, even if it’s a lot _foggier_ and Cara is already almost certain that they’ve been lost four hours and moving in circles around the city walls ( _I’m not sure where she is_ , Din had said defensively when she had suggested, less than gently, that he had about as much of an idea where he was going as she did, _things here changed just before I left_ ) by the time she sees her.

All it takes is one look and she just _knows_. She suspects it’s more due to the other woman’s power than what little she has of it – there’s the same nudge at the back of her mind as the time when she’d met Luke Skywalker and she’d tried to figure her case out and just like then, she resists as best as she can while Din steps through the no man’s land, arms held up into something between a greeting and a peace offering.

“Ahsoka Tano,” he calls out and she nods back at him, cautiously curious as all Jedi seem to be. She looks _kind_ and it’s more intimidating than it has any right to be. “You found Grogu a proper teacher, I see.”

“I did.” He falters for a moment, as if unsure how much of the truth he can admit to her. “You were right – about emotional attachments. We’ve tried to figure out a compromise with that. It’s working, for now.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Her eyes stray in Cara’s general direction and she takes it as her cue to square her shoulders and step forwards.

It’s going to be all right. She’s just a woman; the Force is just an invisible entity that she can control. Fear is nothing but a barrier. She’d never had any trouble stepping right over it before. “Grogu is a great student, it turns out,” she says before she’d lost her nerve, “and the Jedi School is doing wonders for those kids, from what I can see.”

“I’m sure it is.” She doesn’t sound all too sure, but it’s easier to focus on the question in her eyes than it is to think about her doubts in Luke Skywalker. “It can’t do the same for you, apparently.”

So much for keeping up her mental defences. “It’s different for children, I suppose.” It couldn’t _not_ be. “I’m not— I had never— This hasn’t _happened_ to me before.”

“Not ever?” She shakes her head, the distinct feeling of taking the place of an experiment into a world she knows nothing about. “It’s not as rare as you’d think. Sometimes, there’s an event or an experience or a _feeling_ that unlocks abilities people never knew they had.”

“My whole world was blown out of the sky,” Cara says, too frustrated with her own body’s sudden whims to not be tactless. “If it didn’t happen then, why now?”

“It’s not an exact science.” She holds her hands out in prompt and Cara obeys, placing her palms over hers with the same grim determination she’d had during a particularly difficult mission. “Let’s find out...?”

“Carasynthia,” she answers. It’s been so long since she’d spoken that name out loud with any kind of purpose that it barely even feels hers, but it’s important this time around, she thinks.

Ahsoka Tano nods, cautious but otherwise so perfectly composed that she can’t help but follow her example. “Let’s find out, Carasynthia.”

The Jedi closes her eyes and Cara mirrors her an instant later, the same mild echo of electricity that she’d felt before racing through their joined hands as the forest disappears behind her shut eyelids.

It’s darkness she had expected, but it never comes. Instead, the layer of the universe that had been tucked away from her perception for so long bursts to life as soon as she turns her attention towards it and now, it feels far less like she’s being invaded and more like an invitation. The world spins faster and faster, pulling her into the eye of the storm, and it’s no longer an attack; it’s a _homecoming_.


End file.
